Lost Boys
by DemonicCharity
Summary: The Harry is thrown into a world where he is the Dark Lord's Chosen Servant and Draco is the Boy-Who-Lived. Are both who they seem to be? Can they bring about the Dark Lord's fall and will they find comfort in eachother? RR!
1. Prologue : Descending Darkness

Author: DemonicCharity  
  
  
  
Title: Lost Boys  
  
Rating: R for language.  
  
Warnings: Slashy, but not to bad now. Will be H/D later tho. Don't like don't read. Don't send me flames for this reason!  
  
Disclaimer: They aren't mine. If they were, I'd be rich, beautiful and would control all the children of the world because they love the characters so much. I'm just borrowing for the moment.   
  
  
  
Spoilers: SS/PS, CS, PoA, GoF, OotP  
  
  
  
A/N: Anything else that needs mentioning? This story used to be called 'Shifted', but it's totally different in light of the fifth book. Plus the old one sucked. I'll try to get a chappy out every week, but I can't promise anything.  
  
Prologue  
  
  
  
The sunlight barely clung to the edge of the horizon, fighting desperately to hang onto the very tips of the tall pine trees as a lanky young man stood in the middle of a large clearing, surrounded by figures clad in strange clothing and wearing black masks meant to hide their identities to even one another. From a distance an unknowing mind might have assumed this lanky boy in the middle of the circle was the leader of the odd little 'cult.' But those knowing the boy and who stood around him would have known the nineteen year old young man was not addressing faithful worshipers who hung on his every word.  
  
At the moment, he was, in fact, trying to come up with a rude plan of escape. Something clever but not flashy. Something that would give him just a bit more time to live...But the young man knew the only way out of that circle was either in the leader's good graces, or to have his cold, dead body dumped out side the Ministry of Magic.  
  
Muggles wouldn't know of his defeat...Most of the Wizarding World wouldn't know. They had already deemed the young man dead long ago. Him and everything worth fighting for.  
  
The troubled youth knew that the first idea was definatly NOT an option, as he refused to bow and kiss the hem of the leader's robes, and he would rather avoid the second if he could. He'd spent to long fighting to just give up. In his mind, he'd already come to the conclusion that no matter what it took, he was leaving alive.  
  
For Harry Potter couldn't die. Wouldn't die. He wasn't afraid of death, by any means, because after all, what was there to live for anymore? But he couldn't just let the evil monster roam the world free with no one to oppose him. Harry Potter wasn't afraid of the Dark Lord anymore. In his mind, Harry wondered if he ever had. No, he had never feared the man's name, but he feared what Voldemort could do to his friends and family.  
  
And he had rightly been afraid of him. He had never really witnessed his parent's deaths, but he had to live in the repercussions. Living with the Dursleys had been pure hell, with no way to fight the scathing comments about him being a 'freak'. Oh, how he would have loved to show them what a 'freak' he was! But again, Voldemort had interfered and destroyed them before Harry even had a chance to think up a proper plan of revenge.  
  
But before he lost them, he had lost the last person that had meant everything to him. His surrogate father, Sirius Black, had been killed in his fifth year, causing such a void inside him he didn't know how to fill it again. Those memories still brought tears and such a strong anger that before that year, he had never known. How he had loved Sirius! How he had depended on him, and he left him all alone again with no one but the Dursleys.  
  
The Weasleys had been a second family to him, but even that went sour. Percy's asinine behavior, Charlie's disappearence, all of Mr. Weasley's time spent at work or at the Order. And the last bitter reason that still made Harry's skin crawl. . . . His best friend's betrayal of him. Ron Weasley's descent into the darkness. His rebirth into the world of the Death Eaters. It tore his heart to think of him now, after he was long dead. It made him weep on the darkest night of the year, the anniversary of the night Ron had died in his arms, apologizing for letting power and fame corrupt him.  
  
He also lost his other best friend. The one who had always made him think his plans out logically so he wouldn't end up in a mess like he was now. Maybe if Hermione was here now he wouldn't have to be looking into Death's blood red eyes. He wouldn't be standing on the edge of the ruins of Hogwarts, the school he had once attended as a child.   
  
He wondered, though, if he had ever been a child? Maybe it was the first time he had called Uncle Vernon 'Papa' when he was two and had been told in a sneering tone that he didn't have a 'Papa', that his father was dead, as was his mother, and Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would never love him as a child. After all they had Dudley. Maybe that was when he was forced to grow up. . . .Or maybe he was grew up the first time he had dropped the heavy pot of spaghetti when he was five years old, receiving a few firm swats and no food for two days. Or had it been when he received his Hogwarts letter and learned that he was the 'savior' of the Wizarding World for something he couldn't remember doing? Maybe it was feeling so angry to kill like he had in his third year. But by the time Harry had reached his fifth year and Albus had told him of the prophecy, he knew that it was too late. He was already grown, and sorely lacking when it came to trust and love. What would it matter if one of them eventually had to die?  
  
And after Ron betrayed him in his sixth year, Harry doubted love and trust even existed anymore. All that was real to him was hate and the constant need to cry. Harry didn't even trust Albus anymore. How could he? How could he trust anyone? Wether it be the Minister of Magic or the Leader of the Order of the Phoenix?  
  
It didn't matter much after that. Dumbledore was the next to die, shattering just one more piece of him. Then Lupin, the last of the Marauders, as Snape had already killed Pettigrew when the rat found out he was a spy. Moody had taken him in for a short time, but even his attitude of 'Constant Vigilance!' hadn't been enough. Mrs. Weasley was next, and Harry couldn't help but feel that he had never done that woman justice. She had always done so much for him, and in the end, he couldn't save her. Snape had followed shortly after, and so many other after him. Others who he knew, and who he didn't know. Some just vanished, but the living were left with the obligation of burying the ones who had been crudely dumped off in Diagon Alley, St. Mungo's and the Ministry.  
  
Thus the Order of the Phoenix crumbled, as did the Ministry of Magic and Hogwarts. Voldemort's army's kept growing and growing, while what defenders of light were left, dwindling. The entire island of Britain was thrown into Chaos. No one could get in or out of the country. Muggle means of fighting with large explosions failed miserably. Wizards and Muggles were dying right and left. And where was Harry? Hiding like the coward he was.  
  
'Harry Hunting' seemed to have made a very popular come back. Though, Harry suspected, that the 100,000 galleon prize on his head certainly helped persuade people to take part in the event. He wasn't safe anywhere anymore. And there was no where to hide.  
  
But, with all the bad, there had to come good, didn't there? That was the 'eternal balance' that the universe survived by. And in Harry's case, irony was a fucking bitch. The only person who had ever bullied him, sneered at him and dumped him in a shit load of trouble was the only person who had been able to stand his presence, and thankfully not turn him into the authorities. That's right, Draco Malfoy became the one person who Harry could count on. The only one person who still mattered to him.  
  
Nothing had ever changed between the two. That's what Harry could trust. He could trust Malfoy's dry humor in terrifying situations, trust the constant sparring that erupted between them on a day-to-day basis. He was the constant in Harry's life, and for that, he truly cared about the Slytherin.  
  
It had come as quite a shock when he had found Malfoy in a beaten bundle, left to die in a puddle on the muggle streets. Some would call it luck that he stumbled across the blonde in time, but Harry called it fate. He had found Malfoy so he could heal and help him. 'Always the martyr. . . ,' Draco had said. And that was when his feelings for the blonde changed. He began to respect the Slytherin for turning his nose at Voldemort, even if it was done just out of pride. Instead of being just 'Malfoy,' he became 'Draco.' Instead of there being constant hate between them, something changed. They came to really understand each other.  
  
No, it wasn't some summer romance story, far from it. They were the most wanted men in a country plagued by war, how could they just settle in an loft and 'live happily ever after?' Draco would have called him a fool for just thinking it. They complemented each other in every way, and neither regretted all the years of fighting at school. But those fights were used to lighten the mood when things got particularly bad. They would laugh at how foolish those trivial spars seemed compared to now.  
  
Harry never told Draco that he loved him. Harry didn't know for sure if he *did* love the Slytherin. But he never told the blonde boy how he made life bearable for him again, and it broke his heart when Draco just disappeared one day, off to fight the Dark Lord by himself, leaving a note that made him realize what a mistake he had made by not telling the other boy his true feelings.  
  
Did it matter now?  
  
Yes, it did. Because it brought Harry that much closer to the insanity of wanting to just give up. Which brought him back to there here and now. 'So much for coming up with a plan,' Harry thought sourly, 'If that's how life flashes in front of your eyes before you die, I'm extremely disappointed. I thought it was supposed to make you fight harder? Gah. Bloody Hell!' 


	2. Chapter 1 : In The Beginning There Was O...

Author: DemonicCharity  
  
  
  
Title: Lost Boys  
  
Rating: R for language.  
  
Warnings: Slashy, but not to bad now. Will be H/D later tho. Don't like don't read. Don't send me flames for this reason!  
  
Disclaimer: They aren't mine. If they were, I'd be rich, beautiful and would control all the children of the world because they love the characters so much. I'm just borrowing for the moment.   
  
  
  
Spoilers: SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OotP  
  
  
  
A/N: I just want to let you all know that this was delayed because I found that one of my best friends has cancer and doesn't have long to live. He's very special to me and I'm going to immensely miss him, but for now all I can do is pray and urge him to fight. Sorry this is late. I'll try to get one up every Wednesday from now on. Thanks.  
  
Chapter 1: In The Beginning There Was One. . .   
  
  
  
The wind blew his untrimmed black hair into his eyes again, but he made no move to brush the fringe away to clear his sight. Harry had long since ridden himself of his round glasses, throwing them away with his heart, aware that in a battle, losing his glasses could lose him his life. Also was the risk of touching his scar, which throbbed dully while his stomach did regular loops. Voldemort, Tom Marvolo Riddle, was thrilled at the situation Harry was in at the moment. He was so sure that things would go his way, that Harry would turn and become a Death Eater and lick his boots. Harry Potter had news for him.  
  
Voldemort finally chose to speak, making Harry grip his faithful wand all the tighter. His red eyes glowed dimly as the sun whispered it's final farewell to him, reluctantly letting the tips of the trees go. "I could make your every dream come true. . . . Bring Lupin and Black from the grave-"  
  
"Funny," Harry said sarcastically, his emerald eyes narrowed to slits, "how you want to bring back the very people your responsible for killing. What's that all about? Having second thoughts, Oh-Great-And-Terrible Lord of Darkness?" His nostrils flared and his voice dropped down to a hate filled whisper. "How fucking dare you!"  
  
"Please, Harry. Join my side. We could be invincible. Absolutely unstoppable! The world would tremble at our feet! Just let me help you, Harry. Call me Master. . . . Bow to me and I will be every thing you ever wanted!" The Death Eaters around him, shifted, but none dared to speak unless addressed by Voldemort.  
  
"You really are deranged!" Harry snapped. "I'd have to be completely mental to do more than just bloody glare at you! The day I bow down to you-"  
  
Voldemort's face contorted into anger, and all cautions and masks of gentleness, slipped for a moment. "Then you will die along with the other weak fools who refused to see true power!" The Dark Lords red eyes narrowed hatefully, but realizing his mistake, softened again, instantly. "But I don't want it to come to that, Harry. . . . You don't want it all to end either."  
  
"So let me get this straight," Harry hissed, "You're now an expert on what I want as well? Here's a little piece of advice. Don't assume anything about me! There's no way I'll join you, Voldemort. You make me sick!"  
  
"Please, Harry. I don't want to harm you. You're important to me," He seemed to smile, or what Harry assumed was a smile, as his features were so grotesque that one could never be totally sure. "I'm alive because of *you*, Harry. You are *MY* master!"  
  
Harry felt his temper explode at those words. Those words that he dreaded with his entire being. "Thanks, but I don't need reminding of what I've done," Harry spat. "I know perfectly well that it's my fault that a monster is walking the streets, raving mad and trying to take over the world." His confidence seemed to grow as he continued yelling, reassuring himself that he would *never* bow down to him. "I don't know why every psychopathic Dark Lord in history has to try to talk over the world. . . . Don't you get it? *It never works!* And if it's not me who brings your arse down, someone stronger will!"  
  
The creature with red eyes sighed softly, shaking his head a bit, but it was enough to let Harry know that his patience was wearing thin. That meant soon he would do something rash, maybe creating a narrow way of escape. "Don't be like this, Harry. I'm not a 'monster' or a 'psychopath,'" Harry snorted in disgust, but Voldemort continued as if there had been no interruptions. "You can't blame me for trying to purify the world, to make it a better place, Harry. Look at what your Weasley friend did-"  
  
"Don't you even dare!" Harry hissed angrilly. "You don't even know what a true friend is! If he were a true friend he wouldn't have betrayed me for you! A-And speaking of traitors. . . ." Harry shifted uncomfortably, not really wanting Voldemort to know how much Draco had meant to him. "Where is he? What did you do with Draco Malfoy?"  
  
"How many times are you going to ask me, Harry?" Voldemort asked the raven-haired young man, his eyes narrowed in jealousy.   
  
"How many times are you going to avoid answering the question?" Harry countered.  
  
"What does the traitor Malfoy mean so much to you?" Voldemort asked quietly. "Why do you ask about your worst school enemy? Why not Hermione Granger, your mudblood best friend?"  
  
"You are one of the most hypocritical bastards that I know, and believe me, you had some serious competition from Draco. For the sake of the gods! You're as much of a mudblood as she is, and yet you preach purification! Do they," Harry motioned to the Death Eaters around him, "know that you're a filthy mudblood yourself?"  
  
"Harry, please! Don't be this way. . . . I could give you anything you could want-"  
  
"Give it a rest already," Harry shouted. "I don't want the power you could offer me! I'm not l-like Ron!" But Harry's voice broke, betraying the confidence he had been trying to hold for so long. He couldn't show weakness, not in front of Voldemort. But the mere memory of Ron. . . . He felt sick again. "I just want peace!" Harry said, quick to gain his recomposure. "Love! Somewhere I belong! A place to call home again!"  
  
"I could-"  
  
"No!" Harry hissed. "That's just it! You can't. You've taken those things away from me. First my parents, then Sirius! Then my friends. . . .a-and Hogwarts!" Harry took a shaky breath, but continued to hold his head high.  
  
"You're wrong, Harry!" Voldemort whispered desperately. "I could offer you love! I could give you so much more than that pitiful excuse of a Malfoy! Don't you see how much alike we are? You have so much potential, Harry. Don't let it go to waste. Don't let it end this way!"  
  
"Wrong again," Harry sneered. "I'm not like you. I'm not a liar and a murderer! And I never will be!"  
  
"Really?" Voldemort asked more to himself than to the young man in front of him. "Is that so?" In his mind he already knew the outcome of this argument. But he would make sure that he wasn't the only one to lose. Harry Potter would suffer just as Draco Malfoy had. Harry gritted his teeth, waiting impassively as he watched Voldemort rise from his thoughts. "You're saying that if Weasley was standing here at your mercy, right now, that you wouldn't take revenge on him for betraying you?"  
  
Harry looked very confused and venerable for a moment before letting his mask of hate slip back into place. "No." It was a simple answer, but Harry wasn't so sure that he believed himself. Would he kill Ron for betraying him? Had he changed that much since the war had started.  
  
Voldemort raised his wand, eyes narrowed, "Wrong, Harry. I know what's in your heart. Don't lie. Crucio!"   
  
Harry gasped and dropped to the forest floor, gasping for breath as he felt the liquid fire rushing through his veins, the invisible knives diving into his skin. "I think you're rather spoiled, Harry," Voldemort said with a smirk while watching the young man twist and turn unnaturally. "I think you just need a little bit of training, that's all." Voldemort laughed and released the curse, letting the raven-haired Griffindor rest for a moment before beginning the whole process over again. "Try again, Harry," he jeered, raising his wand once more, ready to strike.  
  
"No!" Harry said as forcefully as he could, not wanting to give into Voldemort.   
  
"Crucio!" Voldemort shouted once more, his face again contorting while the other Death Eaters waited in silence as Harry finally gave way to his screams of agony. "You selfish little brat! Things could have been different! I wasn't the one responsible for all their deaths! Who killed Sirius Black, Harry? Who was responsible that he showed up to save you from a false dream? Who?!" Voldemort let the pain stop and watched as the boy stilled, tears streaming down his dirty cheeks. "I offered you everything you could possibly want! *Everything!*"  
  
Harry struggled to his feet, clutching his ribs that were screams from the pain of the last onslaught of raw agony. He staggered towards Voldemort, but was quickly put of by another blast of the previous curse. "How dare you defy me!" Voldemort shrieked over Harry's screams. "You're nothing with out me you ungrateful little sod! You *can't* kill me! Of all the times you've tried, here I am! And then we all see the great Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, short term Defeater of Voldemort, and Dumbledore's Golden Boy, his face in the dirt because he was too proud to see the truth. Too proud to chose life over and 'honorable' death!"  
  
"Fuck you!" Harry spat, sitting up with a great deal of effort.  
  
"Admit it, Harry Potter! Without my powers you wouldn't have survived past the age of twelve in the Chamber of Secrets! Without me, Potter, you are nothing! *Nothing!* Ther is no light without the darkness, no hope without despair! You are as much a part of me as I am you!"  
  
"No!" Harry shouted desperatly. "I don't need you! It's your fault that my life is what it is!" He struggled to his feet, knowing that another wave of the pain he had previously felt, would leave him without enough energy to fight anymore "I don't need you! I don't!"  
  
"Harry!" Voldemort quickly stopped him, knowing all to well that if he asked anything of Voldemort, he would have to grant it if it was in his power. He owed Harry a life debt, something he had over looked when he had used the boy's blood. "You don't know what you're saying! Please!"  
  
"I know exactly what I'm saying!" Harry hissed. "You think that I belong to you because I accidently took some of your powers, don't you? *Don't you?!* Well, here's news for you!"  
  
"Harry-"  
  
"I."  
  
"Please! I'll bring them back! All of them! It's in my power to do so!"  
  
"Don't."  
  
"I need you, Harry! I *LOVE* you!" Voldemort pleaded.  
  
"Want."  
  
"I'll give Draco to you! I'll give you peace! Just please don't-"  
  
"Them."  
  
  
  
"Harry! I'll be your slave! I do anything you wish of me! Just command me to do so!"  
  
"Any longer!"  
  
Voldemort stumbled backwards as if he had been stuck by a physical blow. The figures around silently knelt and bowed their heads, showing Harry reverence for what he had just told the Dark Lord. "You shall understand what you've just asked me, Harry. I will grant your request and never think of you again. You, however, will think of me every time you look at the boy you love. Remember what I offered you, Harry Potter. And remember that you refused."   
  
Harry looked around as the circle of Death Eaters began spinning, slowly at first, then picking up speed. He felt the ground disappear below his feet, and a strange sense of calm came over him. He had won.  
  
That was the last time anyone ever saw Harry James Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. 


	3. Chapter 2 : Much To Feel

Author: DemonicCharity  
  
  
  
Title: Lost Boys  
  
Rating: R for language.  
  
Warnings: Slashy, but not to bad now. Will be H/D later tho. Don't like don't read. Don't send me flames for this reason!  
  
Disclaimer: They aren't mine. If they were, I'd be rich, beautiful and would control all the children of the world because they love the characters so much. I'm just borrowing for the moment.   
  
  
  
Spoilers: SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OotP  
  
  
  
A/N: Used to be called shifted. Now is better and will have a slightly different story line. Let's just get onto the story shall we? Have fun, kiddies!  
  
  
  
Chapter 2 : Much To Feel  
  
Harry groaned and rolled over, using one of his stiff, and rather heavy arms to shield his eyes from the bright light that seemed to surround him on all sides. His numb mind wondered what had happened to the blissful darkness and the feeling of pure joy. Where had Voldemort gone? Where was he now? Gods . . . . His body ached, throbbed with such pain. One could never get used to the Cruciatus curse, no matter how many times it was aimed at them.  
  
His mind wondered to the events of what seemed like a few minutes ago. Why had he fallen into such darkness? Was he dead? Was he in muggle heaven? After all, muggles did talk about angels and light. If only he could open his eyes, maybe just to glimpse the clouds and fall asleep again. Ah, yes. Sleep. It sounded so wonderful. Unfortunately footsteps and a clammy hand rested on his forehead, startling him.  
  
"Welcome back, Mr. Potter," a far away voice called to him, sounding very brisk. It seemed somehow familiar, though it echoed more than would seem normal. Either he was in muggle heaven or he had been hit with the Cruciatus one too many times. He tried to open his eyes, but the light was so bright that he rolled over and shoved his face into a. . . . pillow? Dead people weren't supposed to be able to feel things. . . . His mind seemed to shut down once more and sleep began to claim him when the voice interrupted him again, making him slightly jump. "Oh, no you don't, young man," it scolded, rolling him over with rough hands to face the sunlight again. "You've been out for a week, Mr. Potter. You are *not* going back to sleep without getting some medicine, as well as food and drink, into your system." Harry winced as she sat him up and fluffed the pillows. "What hurts, Mr. Potter?"  
  
"E-Everything!" He croaked, covering his eyes with his hands again. "N-n-need s-stal-gum potion!"  
  
The voice, Harry had determined that it was female, gasped. "No student should know of that potion. Mr. Potter! What's the meaning of this? Another one of your sick jokes? That potions only needed for-"  
  
"T-th-the easing o-of t-the after e-effects of th-the C-Cruc-Cruciatus c-curse." It clicked in his mind. He was in St. Mungo's then. Had to be. This woman was a nurse. But what did she mean by calling him a student? He was no longer a student. He knew more hexs then all of the old Slytherin house put together by now, but he knew that Draco Malfoy, his beloved enemy of old, probably knew twice as many as he did.  
  
"Mr. Potter," she said firmly, "there is absolutely no reason for you to need that potion-"  
  
"Give me the fucking potion, damn it!" Harry shouted, thankfully without stuttering. If the blasted woman woudn't give it to him, it would take him a week to recover from the curse, and damn it, hadn't she said that he was already out for a week? His mind reeled. Why hadn't Voldemort killed him? Why did he just stun Harry and send him to St. Mungo's? How sensible was that?   
  
"I won't tollerate that kind of language in my Wing, Potter!" The woman shouted, and glared at the boy who hadn't opened his eyes yet.  
  
"Either put that n-nice little black bottle in m-my hand, or I'll get up a-and get it myself," Harry snarled. "And believe me when I say it w-won't be pretty if I have to g-get up and find it. I'll tear every fucking shelf apart in this b-building to get it, s-so I suggest that y-you spare us both. N-now give me th-the stalgum potion!"  
  
The nurse mumbled something under her breath, which Harry discerned in his heightened hearing to be something like, "Ungrateful little brat! There could be serious side affects to giving him this potion!" She took her time getting it, just to spite the little bugger.  
  
"Hurry it up!" Harry roared. "I don't have all god damned day!"  
  
The bottle was roughly shoved into his hand with a 'humph' and he heard her footsteps lead away from his bed once more. He uncorked it and threw his head back, quickly downing the black potion that Severus Snape had made for him so many times. This particular brew was rather strong and found that all his aches seemed to almost completely vanish. Maybe now his eyes would work properly. Gingerly he let his hand drop and looked around him.  
  
"FUCK!" Harry fell out of the white hospital bed bringing a glass vase filled with flowers with him. Quickly he scrambled to his feet, his heart racing. This wasn't happening. There was no way this was happening. His eyes quickly searched the dresser top for his wand, but found it among the rubble of the broken vase and scattered flowers. With a bit of his wandless magic he summoned it to his hands and turned, aiming it right between the MediWitch's eyes. "Don't fucking sneek up on me. Ever again."  
  
"Mr. Potter!" She gasped and threw her hands up in shock. "What's the matter with you?"  
  
Harry took a step backwards, his wand arm shaking, his breath seeming to be stuck in his throat. "No. No fucking way. Y-you....No!" Harry wasn't aware of the pain in his feet as he walked backwards over the broken glass. "Y-You're. . . .Dead. You're dead. Dead! I saw you die. I fucking watched you die!"  
  
"Mr. Potter!" Poppy Pomfrey gasped as she saw his blood dripping onto the floor. She advanced towards him, but he snarled, making her back towards where she was.   
  
"I don't need your help, you sick Death Eater! What kind of fucking joke is this?" Harry looked around the Hogwarts hospital wing for some sign of foul play. "What the hell is this, you bastard?!" Harry screamed at the ceiling, his call for Voldemort, who he knew had to have a part in this whole escapade.   
  
Because, plain and simple, he wasn't dead and she wasn't alive. Why was he standing in Hogwarts? It had crumbled infront of his and Voldemort's eyes over a year ago. This wasn't happening. He was delusional, had to be.  
  
Harry barely had time to think, before throwing a crude shield up against the attack of another irate individual from behind. "Stupify!" But the spell was absorbed into the shield only making it stronger. Draco had taught him this little trick their first week together. Blocked minor spells, making the shield stronger every time one was thrown, but the more heavy duty ones passed right through, no matter how strong. Heavy duty meaning the Unforgivables and Harry had learned the hard way that he wasn't completely invincible. It had hurt like hell, and that was putting it quite nicely. "Potter! What the hell do you think you're doing?!"  
  
Harry turned around slowly, trying to calm his erratic breathing. "Snape?"   
  
"Who did you think I was," he snarled, "your mother?"  
  
"Of all the god damned people, it had to be you," Harry hissed. "But I suppose you'll do. You were always brutally honest, weren't you? Not giving a flying fuck what people thought about you or what you did."  
  
"What the hell are you talking about, Potter?" Snape asked, truly confused at the boys behavior. "Put that wand down or I'll immediately go and retrieve the Headmaster!  
  
Harry's eye brows furrowed. "The Headmaster? Where the hell am I?! Be brutal here, Snape. What he hell is going on?!"  
  
"Hogwarts," Poppy said in a shaky voice, as the wand was still pointed at her face, and she didnt' know what the boy would do. "We're at Hogwarts."  
  
"Hogwarts is gone!" Harry snarled. "I watched it crumble to dust. I watched both of you die."  
  
"Poppy? What *is* he going on about?" Severus asked, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What did you give him?"  
  
"She gave me the stalgum potion, that I'm assuming you brewed. It was rather strong. You added just a bit more of the Night Angel root didn't you? Damn. . . . I could have figured that out years ago. . ." Harry mumbled, off in space, counting potion ingredients on his fingers as both stared at him with wide eyes. Harry completely forgot about all possible danger as he recalled his potions lessons with Severus Snape.  
  
"That is not a potion taught at this school, Potter," Snape cautiously stated. "Where did you learn it?"  
  
"You taught it to me," Harry said quietly, lowering his wand. "After Hogwarts fell to Voldemort in my seventh year." Why not tell them the truth? It was not as if they could pose anymore of a threat than Voldemort had all these years.  
  
"But, Mr. Potter! You're only a sixth year!" Poppy argued. "The stalgum potion doesn't make you this delusional-"  
  
"I am not delusional!" Harry ranted, then his voice almost died down into a whisper. "Though a few moments ago I thought I was. . . " It was then the pain in his feet caught up to his head. "Aw, fuck. That potion numbed me up so much I couldn't even feel my feet getting ripped open. I seem to be just bursting with luck this morning," Harry murmured sarcastically.   
  
Poppy helped him sit down on the nearest bed. "I'll just get some-"  
  
"I'll handle it, Poppy." Harry said, waving his hand for her dismissal. He lifted only foot and examined it, pulling a large piece of glass out with a hiss. The cuts weren't that deep, he'd be able to heal them easily, even with his body still sore from the Cruciatus. Slowly he let his fingers drift over each wound, concentrating on the blue glow that was healing them. He then lifted his other foot, pulling all glass from it as well, and once again concentrated on the blue, healing light. "There. . . . Now we can get back to-"  
  
Not only was Poppy Pomfrey and Severus Snape staring at him in shock, but another had entered and was staring as well. Harry felt his insides freeze. 'Oh god. It can't be real. . . . It can't be. Oh, sweet fates, let it be real. Please.' 


	4. Chapter 3 : Lost and Found

Author: DemonicCharity  
  
  
  
Title: Lost Boys  
  
Rating: R for language.  
  
Warnings: Slashy, but not to bad now. Will be H/D soon! Don't like don't read. Don't send me flames for this reason! Or for the fact the characters aren't mine . . .  
  
Disclaimer: They aren't mine. If they were, I'd be rich, beautiful and would control all the children of the world because they love the characters so much. I'm just borrowing them and twisting them for my own sick pleasures.  
  
  
  
Spoilers: SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OotP  
  
  
  
A/N: This story used to be called 'Shifted', but it's totally different in light of the fifth book. Plus the old one sucked. I'll try to get a chappy out every week, but I can't promise anything. This ones early! Yay!  
  
Chapter 3 : Lost and Found  
  
"Mr. Potter?" The voice questioned, blue eyes glowing with concern.   
  
"Y. . . . You." Was all Harry could get out before standing, grasping onto Poppy for support. "Alive?"  
  
"Are you quite alright, Mr. Potter?"   
  
"No," Harry said feebly. "No. I'm not alright. Not at all. What's going on? Why am I here? I must be dead. All of you are dead, so I must be dead too. B-But I didn't think you could feel if you were dead. And I certainly feel the after effects of the Cruciatus. . . ."  
  
"He used the Cruciatus on you?! I thought you were truly joking when you said you took the stalgum potion. . . ." Severus asked with wide eyes. His demeanor than abruptly changed into the angry man Harry knew him as his first seven years at Hogwarts. "That's it, Albus! You've spared him long enough! I want him expelled! I want the brat thrown in Azkaban! I don't care who he is!" Severus shouted, his fists clenched. "He should have been thrown out a year ago!"  
  
"Now, Severus," Albus Dumbledore said gently, trying to calm him down. "I'm sure there's an explanation-"  
  
"Explanation?! The boy cast an Unforgivable on a student in *my* house! I *will* see punishment!" Snape was beginning to turn this ugly shade of red, than purple, than back to red again. If the situation had been different, Harry would have been on the floor laughing. . . . as long as that look wasn't directed at him, of course.  
  
"Hold on one bloody second here!" Harry shouted. "Your house? What do you mean, your house? What the hell is going on? You're definatly not Griffindor's head of house! McGonagall is!"  
  
All three adults looked at him like he was crazy. "You're not a Griffindor, Mr. Potter," Poppy said softly. "You're a Slytherin."  
  
"WHAT?!" Harry jumped away from her and looked to Snape, then Albus. "You're really serious. This isn't some twisted joke, is it? I'm in. . .Slytherin?"  
  
"Yes you are," Snape stated softly. "Commonly know as the Prince of Darkness, though Malfoy has really been giving you a run for your money this past year. I want that boy expelled for this, Albus. I don't care if he's still your favorite Griffindor. If he's going around casting Unforgivables on students it's obvious that he's a Dea-"   
  
"That will be quite enough!" Albus said firmly, sending a sharp glare at the Potions Master.  
  
"Malfoy?" Harry asked quickly. "Draco Malfoy? What do you mean he cast an Unforgivable? On me? Why would he do that? What do you mean I'm Slytherin's Prince of Darkness? That was Draco's job while we were at school! Why's he in Griffindor?" A thought dawned on him. If he was the Slytherin Prince of Darkness. . . .and Draco had received Voldemort's mark in his sixth year. . . . "Fuck no!" Harry practically ripped his sleeve off to see if the skull and snake tattoo was there.  
  
It wasn't. Thank all the gods and goddesses in the skies above.   
  
"Where's your Mark, Potter?" Snape asked suddenly, grabbing his wrist. "Did you do a concealing charm? How did you pull it off? *Where is the Mark?*" Albus even came over too look at his pale skin of his forearm.  
  
"The Dark Mark?" Harry asked, gulping. "I . . . . I never got it! I'm Harry Potter! The Boy-Who-Lived! What do you mean, 'where is it?' Are you daft, people?" Harry looked at their unbelieving faces. "*Boy*-*Who*-*Lived*. Why the hell would I have Voldemort's mark?"  
  
"I was at your initiation, Harry!" Snape gasped, pulling up his other sleeve for good measure. "I was there! I saw him burn it onto you!"  
  
Harry ripped his arms from the older man, glaring. "I was never at an initiation!" He pulled his bangs up and showed them the scar that had made him famous as a baby. "I'm the only one who can bring him down! You told me about the prophecy yourself, Albus. In my fifth year! After. . . .After Sirius. . . ." Harry choked on his words, snapping his mouth shut.  
  
"What happened to Sirius, Mr. Potter? How do you even know of Sirius Black?" Albus asked, his blue eyes wide.   
  
"He...He was my godfather. I-In fifth year, I tried to learn Occlumency from Professor Snape. . . . B-But he got mad at me and we never continued." He looked at Snape warily, then continued. "I kept having dreams and Voldemort figured out he could use them against me. He sent one of Sirius dying. . . . I . . . .I mean, we, went to save him-"  
  
"Who's 'we', Harry?" Albus asked softly.   
  
"Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Neville, Luna Lovegood, and myself. We all went to the Ministry to save him. But it was a trap. Sirius was never there, Voldemort just needed me to get the prophecy for him. Sirius came at the last minute and saved us. . . . B-But he fell. He was the last family I had, god damn it! And the Dursley's don't count for shit!"  
  
"Don't be so distressed, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore smiled softly, patting his shoulder. "Sirius Black is quite alive." Harry looked up sharply. "Yes, that's right, Mr. Potter. He's alive, though I imagine he's not who you remembered him to be."  
  
"B-But how?"  
  
"I imagine it's because in the middle of last year, your fifth year," Dumbledore said, clarifying the year, "that the Boy-Who-Lived disappeared. Thus there would have been no dreams, and no trip to the ministry."  
  
"Disappeared? Where'd I go?" Harry asked with furrowed eyebrows.  
  
"What's the last thing you remember before you woke up in this Hospital Wing, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked, catching on to the idea that Dumbledore had come up with, while Poppy stood, quiet and confused.  
  
"I was inside Voldemort's circle of Death Eaters. He asked me to join him and I refused. I told him I didn't need him or his powers anymore, and he said that I would always remember him, but he would forget me. I . . . I don't understand."  
  
"It's simple, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore's eyes began to twinkle again. "Very simple."  
  
Severus Snape nodded. "Makes perfect sense why you thought everyone was dead. Why you don't have the Dark Mark and have the scar. . . ."  
  
"I'm missing something here, people," Harry said irritably, crossing his arms and glowering.  
  
"You, my boy, are in another dimension," Dumbledore said with a smile. "A dimension that seems to be opposite of your own. Here you took the place of your Draco Malfoy. You are a Slytherin, and . . . . Well, the Mark is gone, but you were a Death Eater. A spy of course-"  
  
"I was a spy from the right off?" A nod from all three teachers. "Bloody Hell! Draco never told me that! But I suppose it was because he was too stubborn to," Harry sighed and shook his head. "What ever am I going to do with you, Drake Malfoy? What is there *to* do with you?" Harry hadn't realized he made the slip.  
  
"Drake?" Dumbledore asked softly. "Are you two that close in your world?"  
  
Harry blushed. That had been his private nick-name for the Slytherin, and no one had ever heard him say the name before, except for Draco of course. "I suppose we were," Harry said sadly. "That was until he disappeared a year ago."  
  
"A year?" Poppy asked softly. "Are you sure?"  
  
"What's the date?" Harry asked dejectedly, looking to the floor to block tears. No way was he crying over Malfoy. No way in hell. Not again. Not in front of all these people.  
  
"November the 14th," Snape replied nonchalantly.  
  
Harry choked. "Yes. A year. A year ago today. Exactly."   
  
The three teachers exchanged a knowing glance. "Odd," Poppy was the first to speak. "Today was the exact date a year ago when Mr. Draco Malfoy woke up here in a similar condition as you, Mr. Potter."  
  
"Excuse me?" Harry looked back up at the three. "What do you mean exactly?"  
  
"I'd say we've found your friend, Mr. Potter." Snape said acidly. "The little brat's been causing all kinds of hell around here since he woke up last year. He started doing exceptionally well in all his classes, especially potions. He shunned Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger. . . .Well, he practically shunned his entire house. Yet, his treatment of Slytherins was no better, infact, I think it became worse. Except his feud with you, Mr. Potter," he said quietly. "He seems to avoid you at any cost. . . . Hardly even looks at you in class, doesn't even speak when your partners. Odd indeed."  
  
Poppy took up the story. "He started coming here to sleep at night, and when I'd finally had enough of it and kicked him out, he took to sleeping in abandoned classrooms. It was horrible. He knew things about the future he shouldn't have-"  
  
"Oh. That's because Draco's a Seer. I bet he did well in Divination."  
  
Dumbledore shook his head. "That was one of the first things he did, Harry. He dropped out of the class and joined fifth year Arithmancy. He gave Miss Granger quite a headache, if I remember correctly."  
  
"He was constantly skipping meals and was falling asleep in the library on a daily basis, pouring over history books, and theory books about alternate dimensions," Snape continued. "No one knew what had happened to their 'Golden Boy,'" Sanpe sneered. "Granger and Weasley were absolutely terrified, especially when they saw Malfoy's Dark Mark."  
  
"I unfortunately had to place a memory charm on both of them and force the story out of young Mr. Malfoy." Dumbledore sighed softly. "He wasn't happy about it at all."  
  
"I bet he wasn't," Harry smiled, shaking his head. "Draco never liked to tell the truth to anyone. Not even me." Then his features darkened. "And besides. I'm glad Draco kicked Ron's friendship out the door. No more than that bastard deserves!"  
  
All three pairs of eyes widened. It was Snape who spoke with narrowed eyes. "I thought that you were friends with young Mr. Weasley in your world-"   
  
Harry laughed, but it was a brittle laugh. "Oh. I was. Believe me. I was. Then he went and betrayed me to Voldemort. It made things a little tense, you know what I mean?" He asked sarcastically. "Especially when the reason he turned was because he wanted to be famous like me. So he got this little idea in his pea sized brain that if he killed me, he'd be just as popular. 'The Boy-Who-Killed-The-Boy-Who-Lived.'"  
  
Snape's mouth was hanging open. "Weasley? A Death Eater?"  
  
Harry forced a small smile. "He turned in the beginning of December of my sixth year. This year. Tried to kill me, but Draco spoiled it without looking suspicious. His cover was blown in seventh year though. It was real nasty for Draco after that point."  
  
"Until he met up with you again, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore supplied with a smile.  
  
"I suppose so. We were able to keep each other in check, from doing stupid things we shouldn't do. It was. . . .so hard to keep going without him," Harry admitted softly. "B-But you said that he's here. . . ." The green eyed young man looked so hopeful as he looked into Albus Dumbledore's eyes. "Can I see him? Now? I'm feeling just fine! Please! I. . . .I've missed him."  
  
"No need to be hasty," Poppy frowned. "Mr. Potter, how many times was the Cruciatus cast upon you?"  
  
Harry didn't want to answer. He knew that the over protective MediWitch would try to keep him there another week, and all he wanted to do was get out and see Draco. "Erm. . . .It's no big deal, Poppy. Really. See, I'm a natural Healer, so I'm fine now."  
  
"How many times, Mr. Potter? I know that. . . . that creature doesn't spare Severus any pain," she asked again, tapping her foot impatiently.  
  
"Poppy!" Harry whined, "I can handle it, I'm a big boy, no matter how old my body may look!"  
  
"Answer the bloody question, Potter," Snape growled, but looked apprehensive himself.  
  
"Erm. . . . O-Only four times," Harry admitted quietly. "See. Not that big of a deal. I've had worse. Really. Can I go? Please? What time is it?"  
  
"Four times, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked in almost a whisper. "In how long of a period?"  
  
"Um . . . Maybe . . . Fifteen minutes or so?" He mumbled the last bit, his cheeks burning as he waited for someone to say something.  
  
"Dear God!" Poppy shrieked. "In that short period of time he used that curse on your *four times*?!"  
  
"I'm fine now," Harry repeated for the third time. "Come on, Poppy. I'm really nineteen. I can handle a simple Unforgivable. What time is it?"  
  
"It's approximately time for the first lesson of the day," Dumbledore smiled cheerfully. "Severus, I believe that you have a class to teach, do you not? Poppy, if Mr. Potter says he fine, than I believe he is fine. He should head off to class-"  
  
"Class?" Harry asked incredulously. "I have to go to class again? Why?"  
  
"What other excuse do you have for staying at this school, Potter?" Snape glared. "You will have your first class with me, unless you'd rather stay here with Poppy today?"  
  
With a flick of his wand he was in his old school uniforms, only he quickly changed the Griffindor tag to the one of Slytherin. "Ready to go, sir," Harry smiled, edging his way to the doors.  
  
"Good. Where's your bag?" Snape asked, looking around.  
  
"Erm. . . .I don't know," he shrugged. "Where it was before I ended up here?"  
  
"Malfoy attacked you last Friday night after dinner, so I would imagine that's in your dorms," Poppy supplied softly, changing the bed sheets with a few waves of her wand.   
  
Harry laughed nervously. "Oh, yea. Right. And. . . .where would my dorms be?"   
  
  
  
"You're joking, right, Potter?" Snape asked, his eye brows raised.  
  
"No, sir. The only time I ever saw the Slytherin dorms was in my second year when we used Polyjuice Potion to-" Harry let his sentence run into silence. "Well, let's just ignore that, shall we?"  
  
"Where did you get the Polyjuice Potion?" Dumbledore asked, real interest in his voice.  
  
"Erm. . . .Hermione brewed it. We took some to find out if Draco was the heir of Slytherin." Harry sighed sadly, memories of his second year coming back to him. They had been so close then, Hermione, Ron and himself. The only fights were about sneaking out after dark and homework. How simple life had been then. How utterly peaceful compared to now.  
  
"Miss Granger brewed a Polyjuice potion in her *second* year?" Snape asked, his dark eyes wide with shock.  
  
"Yea. She's a real wiz at things like that. She's just a bit over zealous when it comes to homework, not to mention that she's read Hogwarts: A History, like three hundred times. You really don't give her enough credit, sir."  
  
Snape sputtered, "Obviously not," but he soon regained his composed and the constant sneer on his features, ushering Potter out of the room.  
  
"Come back when you get a chance, Harry!" Poppy called as he was being shoved through the doors. "I want to speak to you about Healing! We might even be able to make time in your schedule for a private class! "  
  
"Yes, Ma'am!" Harry returned over his shoulder, then followed Snape down to the dungeons to retrieve his school things, looking apprehensively at his new Head of House. "Sir," Harry asked pensively, chewing his lip a bit.   
  
"Yes, Potter?" Snape replied absantly as he strode through the corridors with the raven haired boy trying desperately to catch up with him.   
  
"Sir. . . You're not going to be a complete bastard to me now, are you?" Harry's eyes widened as he heard the older Professor laugh. It dawned on him that he had only heard Snape laugh one other time, and why Snape had laughed when Voldemort was killing him, Harry would never know. Maybe it was to have that final power over Voldemort. To defy the Dark Lord to his last breath.  
  
"Potter, you're in my House now," Snape's sneer looked remarkably like a smile, making Harry worry a bit. "You now get to enjoy 'House Favoritism,' as the Griffindors call it. You have to keep in mind that you are now superior, because you are a pureblood. Wether I think that idea is shite or not, you have to act it, as do I," He sighed heavily and stopped, looking down at the boy. "That's what we do, Harry. We pretend we're complete bastards so no one can find and expose the weaknesses of the heart. You must remember that Slytherin is full of spies for the Dark Lord. Everyone is suspicious of each other and will have no problems writing not only to your father if you start acting out, but the Dark Lord himself."  
  
Harry gaped. "Father? I . . . have a father here?"  
  
"Don't be fooled, boy," Severus said sternly. "He won't be the father you have in mind. I don't know if Malfoy ever told you about his father, which I am assuming is so similar to yours in this world, but he's not a good man. Not even decent."  
  
"B-But-"  
  
"Listen to me, Harry," Severus placed a hand calmly on his shoulder. "You mustn't tell him of this. You can tell *no one* of you being from a world opposite of your own. Just as Draco kept his secrets you must keep yours. No one is to know that you are a healer, and no one can know that Draco is a Seer. *Especially* not your father. He's a Death Eater here, Harry. Down to the very core of his heart lies the evil and superiority that Voldemort put there so many years ago."  
  
Harry took a shaky breath and nodded. "It's just . . .I don't even remember him. . . I have a mother too, right? Lily?"  
  
"Yes," Severus rolled his eyes, "Vainest woman I ever laid eyes on. Perfect for James Potter in my opinion." 


	5. Chapter 4 : Introducing the Dragon

Author: DemonicCharity  
  
  
  
Title: Lost Boys  
  
Rating: R for language.  
  
Warnings: Slashy, but not to bad now. Will be H/D later tho. Don't like don't read. Don't send me flames for this reason! Language isn't too bad either, I hope. Just a few f-bombs here and there. . . .   
  
Disclaimer: They aren't mine. If they were, I'd be rich, beautiful and would control all the children of the world because they love the characters so much. I'm just borrowing for the moment.   
  
  
  
Spoilers: SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OotP  
  
  
  
A/N: I feel loved! Reviews!!!!!!!!!!!! Yay!!!!!!!! This was almost late because I had to spend the day at my mother's house, which doesn't happen very often, but hey, anyways! I came home early to get this up! It's important to please the fans, right? Slashyness will happen soon! I swear it! Just keep reading and praying . . . and a little nagging in the reviews will help too . . . Thanks for everything! I love you all so much!!!!!!  
  
Chapter 4 : Introducing the Dragon  
  
Draco silently shoved his school books that he would need for the day into his fading leather bag, making sure all his homework was neatly tucked away inside the books so it wouldn't be crinkled when he handed it in. The term was almost over and finals were just ahead of him, thus causing the blonde boy to stay up most of the night in the Charms classroom, then falling asleep on the cold desks, trying not to shiver.  
  
Draco had made this room his home for the last two days, but he knew that tomorrow he would need to find a new sanctuary. He didn't want anyone to accidently find him asleep and cast some horrible curse while he was unguarded. Especially with wand-happy Weasels and over excited mudbloods running the halls at night. At least he had an invisibility cloak to sleep under. Didn't keep the cold out, but it kept Norris and Filch stumped.  
  
Unfortunately the muggle-lover Dumbledore kept coming around, asking him if he was sure that he didn't want to sleep in the Griffindor dorms. For the sake of all the was sane, what was wrong with the man? Why would he possibly want to sleep in the same room with his 'best friend' Weasley, when the little shit was probably a fucking Death Eater by now? And out for his blood none the less.   
  
Draco had already gone for his morning jog and showered in the locker rooms, skipping breakfast to run an extra lap around the lake. He loved the solitude, and everything was peaceful right now. No war, no over bearing, fucked up father to deal with, only Snape and Potter constantly on his ass.  
  
And that brought him back to square one, didn't it? Potter. It always came back to Potter. Last year, when he had first arrived in this strange place, he hadn't believed Potter's behavior towards him. Things couldn't have been completely opposite because Draco hadn't acted like an ass to Harry like Potter was to him. Well. . . hadn't acted like a complete ass anyways. I mean, it was unbelievable how stuck up and self righteous the shit was. It was like he constantly had a broom stick up his ass.  
  
Draco put the books he didn't need behind an old book self in the back of the class room and headed out the door to his first class. The class he detested more than any other. Potions. Snape was constantly trying to mess him up, wether it was by just hovering with the common death glare or encouraging other Slytherins to sabotage him and his things. Then there was the fact that *everyone* hated him.  
  
But that was Draco's own doing. He had made sure to get everyone to hate him. After all, who wanted to be friends with Griffindorks anyways? Draco choked back a sob. He did. No matter how much he denied it to himself, he needed someone. Ever since last year, he had slowly been going out of his mind. Meeting his muggle relatives hadn't done anything for his sanity either. He had always thought that Harry had the perfect life. That the muggles would roll out the red carpets for him, like he was some kind of king.  
  
How wrong he had been. 'A cupboard? I mean, come on! How did Harry do it? What was his trick for keeping his mind intact when he was constantly being called a 'freak'?' And if there was someone Draco missed more than Harry he couldn't name them.   
  
"Watch where you're going, Granger!" Draco hissed as the chocolate-eyed smart ass accidently bumped into him. "Do you need glasses or something? Or a reverse memory charm? I told you that when you touch me it makes my skin crawl. It must be the dirty blood. "  
  
Ron hissed and narrowed his eyes, raising his fist to punch his ex-best friend for insulting his girlfriend. "Why you-"  
  
"Ron, don't!" Hermione argued, pulling on his sleeve to lower his fist. "You know he's not worth it! Not anymore," she whispered darkly, looking at the blonde boy with contempt.  
  
Draco laughed. If there was one thing that he enjoyed these days it was making the Weasel rise to his bait. "That's right, Weasley. Listen to your girlfriend, after all, she doesn't want you to have a busted lip tonight when you're snogging in the back corner of the library, does she?"  
  
  
  
"What the hell would you know, Malfoy?" Ron hissed. "At least someone *wants* to snog me!"  
  
Draco raised a elegant blonde brow, smirking slightly. "I suppose that shows the taste of those on a low monthly budget, doesn't it, Weasley? After all, you need proper funds to find yourself someone with the proper blood line, who your willing to waste your time on."  
  
"You don't buy love, Malfoy!" Hermione glared. "Even Potter knows that."  
  
"Of course I know that, Granger," said a sneering voice behind Draco. It made his blood run cold every time. "But I have to agree with Malfoy. You can't buy love with money, but you can at least buy a *proper* house. I think you may need a little work on that one, Weasel."  
  
"You've never even seen my house!" Ron glared at Harry, while Draco slowly turned around, gulping. He really hadn't wanted to deal with the bastard today.  
  
"It's legendary, Weasel," Harry laughed. "It's practically tipping over, not to mention all the additions added to keep a roof over your heads. How many more do you think your parents will pop out? You might actually have to move into the ground like an animal at the rate they reproduce."  
  
Hermione barely held Ron back from punching the smirking Slytherin. "How dare you insult my family! At least I'm not Death Eater scum like you are!"  
  
"Playing dirty now, are we Weasel? Why don't you check your priorities before you even consider checking mine. Come along, Malfoy, I have a proposition for you. Let's talk on the way to potions. I can guarantee it will be worth your time."  
  
Draco stood motionless. Had Potter just addressed him. . . . nicely?  
  
"Consorting with the enemy now, Malfoy?" Granger glared at him.  
  
"Before you go accusing Malfoy, I'd suggest you look closer to home, Granger. Like your own bed, for example," Hermione's eyes widened as a blush crept across her cheeks at Potter's comment. She had no idea how he had even known about her and Ron when not even her own house did. And what did he mean, look for the enemy in her own bed. Why would Ron be her enemy?  
  
Draco burst out laughing and followed Potter away from the group of furious looking Griffindors, trying to calm his over excited stomach. He hadn't received a vision that morning. . . . but that didn't necessarily mean anything. He only hoped that if his life was in danger, something would hit him before it was too late.  
  
"What's this proposition? If you're going to ask me to become a Death Eater and kiss that lunatics robes your out of your fucking mind," Draco glared, pushing a loose strand of pale blonde hair behind his ear as they continued on their way to the potions classroom.  
  
Draco shivered at the look that Potter sent at him, but kept following, trying to keep in step with the taller boy. He was sure happy that in the future he would end up being slightly taller than the raven-haired boy, but that only brought painful memories of a Harry long gone, and Draco wished, long forgotten. But it seemed impossible to forget the noble Griffindork who always managed to knock some sense into him when he went off the deep end. "Am I talking to myself here, Potter? What do you want? If you think I'm sticking around because I like your company-"  
  
Draco was abruptly cut off as he was shoved against the stone wall, enough to silence him, but not hurt him. Hands braced on the wall blocking all sides so he couldn't escape, and a look in Harry Potters eyes that made him dizzy. What was he doing? Why was he looking at him like that? What *was* in that look? What did it mean? It was so much like the one- 'Don't even start!' Draco scolded himself. 'It's not Harry. You're reading into it too much,'  
  
"Potter. . . . What the hell do you think your doing?" Draco tried to ignore the butterflies moving frantically in his stomach and keep his voice calm and face expressionless. Something was different about him today. "Did you hit your head to hard last week?" Draco hoped that sounded mocking but wasn't very convinced himself.  
  
"You sound like you care. . . ." Harry murmured, leaning in and breathing in the scent that he had long forgotten.  
  
"N-no. . ." Draco gasped as warm breath ghosted over his neck, making his skin prickle, and he had the insane wish that the boy would close the distance between them and run his tongue over- 'Draco! Pull yourself together! You promised! Harry and only Harry! This is *not* Harry! This is Potter, a known enemy who will do anything to bring you down, remember? You put him in the Hospital Wing for a whole week, damn it.'   
  
"I initiate the game, beloved enemy of mine," Harry whispered, letting his lips drift close enough to Draco's ear he could almost feel them.   
  
"W-What game?" Draco asked, pushing himself harder against the wall to escape the touch that felt so right. He wouldn't tempt himself with love again. Draco was startled by that thought. Was it really love? Had he loved the raven-haired boy with shining emerald eyes? Had he really loved Harry?   
  
"A game of the heart, Draco Malfoy. A dangerous game of truth and emotions. . ." Harry barely brushed his lips against Draco's neck before he backed up, smirking. "Meet me tonight at midnight by Hagrid's hut. Near the edge of the forest. The game begins . . ."  
  
"Malfoy! Potter! What do you think you're doing?! Get to class!" Snape roared from across the corridor.  
  
"Tonight, Malfoy. Be there or I guarantee you'll miss the time of your life." Harry winked then shoved him hard as he followed the greasy Professor to class, leaving Draco standing motionless, his mind racing to figure out what the hell had just happened.  
  
******  
  
A/n: Does Draco need to be darker? Does Harry need to be less playful? Does Snape need to be more of an ass? Am I writing too much ooc (out of character)? Tell me! REVIEW! Click the GO BUTTON!!!!!!! And just so you know, my beta (and one of my best friends), Jade Maxwell has the most AMAZING H/D stories! I can't find the right words to praise them! They are truly marvelous! Read and review them! They are worth it! I luv you Jade! Thanks for helping me along!  
  
DemonicCharity 


	6. Chapter 5 : Assumptions and Summons

Author: DemonicCharity  
  
  
  
Title: Lost Boys  
  
Rating: R for language and violent themes. Plus everyone just wants to read an R rated ficcie.  
  
Warnings: Slashy, but not to bad now. Will be H/D later tho. Don't like don't read.   
  
Disclaimer: They aren't mine. If they were, I'd be rich, beautiful and would control all the children of the world because they love the characters so much. I'm just borrowing for the moment.   
  
  
  
Spoilers: SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OotP  
  
  
  
A/N: OMG!!! I deserve to be shot for this offense! It's been WAY too long! I mean. . . MY GOD!!! WHERE ARE MY PLOT BUNNIES!?!?! How long has it been? Two months? Longer? I am so so so so so sorry! Please don't kill me!!!! I hope this chapter is . . . sort of good.Review and I will pray to you before I go to bed every night.  
  
Chapter 5 : Assumptions and Summons  
  
Draco didn't know if he had ever sat though a potions class that had lasted *that* long before in his entire life. Everything seemed so . . . out of proportion was the only way Draco could describe it. The dungeons were darker than usual and Snape even more vicious to him, if that was at all possible. It was hard for him to understand why Snape could hate him so much because of what his father had done to him, but understanding the nasty potions professor didn't help the situation at all. He would still be hated and would lose points no matter if his potion was better than Granger's or not. Not that he minded losing Gryffindor house points. Hell, he had done everything he could at home to make sure that they lost as many as possible.  
  
But losing Gryffindor points wasn't on his mind as he made his way to the great hall for dinner, it was Har-no, it was Potter. His behavior had been. . . well . . strange. He had never seen Potter so. . . playful. What the hell was this game that he had started?  
  
*A game of the heart, Draco Malfoy. A dangerous game of truth and emotions. . .* Harry barely brushed his lips against Draco's neck before he backed up, smirking. *Meet me tonight at midnight by Hagrid's hut. Near the edge of the forest. The game begins . . .*  
  
A game of the heart? What kind of bullshit was that? Potter didn't *have* a heart. Atleast not that he had been aware of. 'You would think that I'd be able to relate to him because I've lived his bloody life, but no. He's a complete 180 degrees from what I used to be. Damn . . . I'm thinking too much again.'  
  
Sitting down quietly at the end of the Gryffindor table where there were only first years and empty seats, he pulled his Defense book out and began rereading chapter 9, for the sixth time since it was assigned. Yesterday.   
  
No one really had any explanation on how Draco had suddenly turned a cold shoulder to his friends and began getting even better grades than Hermione Granger, except that he had joined the Dark Lord. They assumed that was why he lost his scar. After all, You-Know-Who didn't need a servant who screamed in agony when he was within five meters of him, now did he?  
  
Draco snorted, shaking his head as he heard more whispers of a new alliance between him and Potter. "You would think that they would have something more interesting to talk about, wouldn't you?" A foreign voice asked, making Draco lose his place in his reading and look up, only to see a smirking Potter, taking a seat across from him, waving his wand over his goblet, filling it with a liquid that smelled disturbingly like liquor. A taste Draco had not been able to fill since he had arrived.  
  
"What the hell are you doing over here?" Draco snarled, snatching Har-no, Potter's goblet and downing half the liquor in one gulp, savoring the flavor of his favorite wine. Maybe they had more in common than he had thought before. The boy did have good taste when it came to fashion and good drinks, but something was off about Potter . . . Something Draco just couldn't put his finger on.  
  
"Oh, nothing in particular. I just wanted to encourage the many colorful rumors that are flying around," Potter smirked. "I love to see the little first years so," he snarled at a nearby first year, making him jump and yelp, "excited," Potter laughed.  
  
"Indeed," Draco said, his eyes narrowed as he sipped the wine.   
  
"Aw, come on, Malfoy, you like to scare the little buggers just as much as I do," Potter said, refilling Draco's goblet and filling another one he had snatched from near by. "Besides, I need your professional opinion on a matter."  
  
"The word 'professional' entails money, Potter," Draco said, an eye brow raised slightly. "What could you possibly need my help for, that you would be willing to hand out-" Draco was cut off as a small brown bag on galleons dropped infront of his plate.  
  
"I don't give a shit about money, Malfoy," Harry stated truthfully. "I do have a soul, you know," he looked up at the night sky, then added as an after thought, "But don't tell anyone, yeah? I have a 'reputation' to keep up."  
  
Draco sighed, shutting his book and putting it away. "Of course. We all do, though you seem amused to tarnish mine."  
  
"Now, now. There's no need to play dirty. You're record was already tarnished long before I cornered you in the halls today. You don't need to blame everything on your school nemesis." Harry stole a bread roll from Draco's plate and bit into it, ignoring Draco's look of death.  
  
"And what the hell was that all about, Potter?" Draco hissed, grabbing the roll back from Harry's hand and taking a bite himself.  
  
"Possessive tonight, aren't we?" Harry asked, swirling his drink and downing the rest of it. "That issue will be addressed tonight, unless your to *afraid* to come . . ."  
  
"Potter-"  
  
"Let's just get down to why I'm here, shall we?" Harry asked professionally, reaching inside his robes and pulling out a thick, cream colored envelope. "I just received this from my father today. It was waiting for me on my bed when I got back from Potions. Apparently my owl. . . if you could call that monestrous beast an owl. . .left it for me when I wasn't at breakfast."  
  
"And I should care because . . .?"  
  
"I find the news inside *very* intriguing. . . Have a look, why don't you?" Harry asked, setting the envelope down on the table and sliding it across to him. "I'm sure you'll find it just as fascinating."  
  
"And how do I know that it's safe?" Draco asked, looking at the envelope warily. "A portkey could roll out onto my hand or-"  
  
"Don't be daft, Draco!" Harry rolled his eyes. "I may be a moron at times, but do you really think that I would try something that stupid in the middle of the Great Hall, where Albus Dumbledore, leader of the side of Light, sits, happily drinking tea and conversing with some of the most powerful wizards and witches we've seen in a *very* long time?"  
  
"You're asking me if I trust you?" Draco asked incredulously, an eye brow raised.  
  
"If you want to look at it that way. . ." Harry said airily, staring down at Ronald Weasley with a smirk. He turned his attention back to Draco and nodded down at the letter. "Read it. Go on. I give you my word as Potter that no harm will come to you when you read that letter."  
  
"Like I should trust a promise like that!" The blonde boy scoffed, but picked up the letter all the same, carefully opening the envelope and opening the pages.  
  
"You should know how it feels to owe your family your allegiance, Draco Malfoy," Harry said quietly. "And you should know how it feels to break that allegiance."  
  
Draco's eyes narrowed, but he shook his head and began reading.   
  
'Dearest Son,  
  
I have once again heard that you have been brawling with the Malfoy boy, acting like common muggle trash that you would find on the streets of London. How many times have I told you that this behavior is unacceptable? How many times must you be punished before the idea will stick in your silly head? You have strict orders from Our Lord to keep silent watch, not to be parading around, trying to show off the powers that have been granted to you!  
  
Our Lord has scheduled another meeting for tonight at the Riddle mansion. You will no doubt be notified of the time. Tardiness will no longer be accepted, Harry. You are the Chosen of the Darkness, you have certain responsibilities to fulfill.  
  
It is assumed that Our Lord will discuss the matter of you dropping out of Hogwarts at this meeting. Apparently, there is another who will spy on Dumbledore for us now. You brought him to me three weeks back as a potential. He has passed Our Lord's tests and was initiated last Thursday. Our Lord was rather disappointed that he was no longer friends with the Boy-Who-Lived, but saw the 'talent waiting to be unlocked' within this boy.   
  
I will not expect a response from you, Harry, but I do expect you to be at Riddle Mansion *on time* tonight.  
  
Father  
  
Draco looked up at Potter, his mouth bobbing open and closed as Potter calmly lit up a fag and took a deep drag. "He can sure pull off the whole fatherly love issue while being such an asshole, can't he?"  
  
He offered the vanilla scented fag to Draco who took it with a shaking arm and took a deep drag also, trying to work things out in his head. He looked up at Harry and shook his head. "What kind of a fucking moron is your father? Shouldn't he have spelled this to be destroyed once you have read it?"  
  
"Should have. Probably forgot," Harry shrugged. "Now this is where I need your opinion. . ."  
  
Draco set the paper on fire himself, ignoring the odd looks he was getting from everyone around him. "Why would you need my opinion on this, Potter? You're a happy little Death Eater . . . This has nothing to do with me. . ."  
  
"Hmm. Perhaps," Harry said thoughtfully. "But I was wondering . . . What did he mean that I would 'no doubt be notified of the time'?"  
  
"Are you completely stupid, Potter?" Draco sneered.  
  
  
  
"Depends on the subject being discussed. As we're talking about the Dark Lord, I feel rather left out," Harry said softly, taking the fag back from Draco, taking a drag, staring at the charred ashes on the table.  
  
"Your Dark Mark, stupid. How else does the Dark Lord summon his followers?" Draco asked, pushing a bit of food around his plate, rolling his eyes.  
  
"Ah. Right. Dark Mark. That makes sense," Harry laughed, then flung a spoonful of mashed potatoes at a first year, sneering as they glared at him.  
  
Draco couldn't help but to be shocked. Potter was the Dark Lords right hand man, and he was asking him, supposedly Voldemort's worst enemy, how the Dark Lord contacts his spies? Had the world gone mad or was it just Potter?  
  
  
  
"Well, now that that's settled," Harry stated, standing up, dropping his fag to the floor and crushing it with his boot, "I should get-"  
  
Draco hissed in pain, shoving his left arm under the table and covering his forearm with his right hand. The Mark was burning, and he thought he saw Harry stumble backwards, clutching his forehead and covering what looked suspiciously like a lightning bolt shaped scar. If Draco could think clearly, he would have been cursing Voldemort to have summoned so early, when he *knew* that Hogwarts had dinner at 6:00. If he could think clearly, he would have thought it a little to ironic that Harry Potter rushed out of the room, clutching his lightning bolt shaped scar. . . a scar he wasn't supposed to have. 


	7. Chapter 6 : Light and Darkness

Chapter 6  
  
Where There is Darkness, Let There Be Light  
  
Author: DemonicCharity  
  
  
  
Title: Lost Boys  
  
Rating: R for language.  
  
Warnings: SLASH!! I REPEAT SLASH!! No lemons (or limes) as of yet, but *shrug* who knows for the future. BEWARE!  
  
Disclaimer: They aren't mine. If they were, I'd be rich, beautiful and would control all the children of the world because they love the characters so much. I'm just borrowing for the moment.   
  
  
  
Spoilers: SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OotP  
  
  
  
A/N: Oh dear, my not updating is sure becoming a hassle isn't it? I apologize from the bottom of my heart. I tried to make this one a little longer and bit sappier too. This starts a new chapter in the boys' lives! Review! I love you!  
  
  
  
Harry walked quietly across the rooftop, as he had done so many times in the past, in his world, where he would come up here to sit and stare at the moon and look at the lake when his heart was troubled by thoughts of losing his friends and dying before he had the chance to live. It had always pained him to sometimes find the Malfoy boy up here, doing the same thing he had done, for the same reasons, he now knew. And now, Harry was slowly approaching the figure outlined by the moon, his eyes glued to the only person that seemed to matter anymore, the only person who might give a damn if he died now.  
  
Draco stared up at the moon, his mind in chaos, unable to be sorted out no matter how long he sat there, the December winds bitting his cheeks and nose, leaving him looking more venerable then he would dare let anyone else see. For he was Draco Malfoy, wasn't he? He had not only established a reputation at home for being a dick, but it seemed that he had fucked up here as well. No friends, no family, nothing. Everything he had wished for at home when he had been forced to play spy at Voldemort's right hand. How was he supposed to know that having fake friends were better then having no friends at all? Atleast he could pretend that Goyle and Crabbe had given a damn about him when they were in school.  
  
Harry silently lit a fag and sat down next to him, taking a drag and handing it to him without a word. Draco gratefully took it, taking his own deep drag, then watching as the smoke mixed with the cold night air as he let his breath back out. "You weren't by Hagrid's hut," he said softly, taking another quick drag, handing the fag back to the raven haired boy sitting next to him. "So I came up here to think."  
  
"I figured as much," Harry said quietly, staring up at the stars. "Things took longer tonight then I had planned."  
  
*****  
  
"You're late, boy," James hissed, his eyes narrowed as Harry climbed the hill to the large Riddle house that stood on it's peak. "I told you not to-"  
  
"Don't fuck with me, James," Harry bit out. "I only deal with your ass because Voldemort commands it." Harry didn't really know how else to act around the man. It was obvious that Draco didn't have any more respect for his father in sixth year after the man was arrested at the Ministry the night Sirius was killed, just as it was obvious that he was stronger then the other Death Eater, and higher in Voldemort's hierarchy.   
  
"I will not tollerate your disrespect any longer!" He screamed, grabbing Harry by his robes. Affirmative, he had been right on. Apparently he had been disrespectful before tonight, and James didn't like it one bit.   
  
Silently, Harry prayed to his dead father that he would be forgiven for what he did tonight. He prayed that he would be forgiven for consorting with the sick bastard who had killed his parents at home, for killing Sirius, not to mention making his life a living hell all these years.  
  
"I suggest you remove your hands," Harry hissed, "if you expect me to arrive before Our Lord becomes angry and punishes *you* for making his Chosen late."  
  
"You little bastard," James glared down at his mirror image.  
  
"That's no way to talk to your son, Potter," Harry heard a voice reprimand his father from up ahead. The voice was so familiar, yet distant. Harry couldn't figure out who it was, as shadows clouded the man in mystery. James grumbled under his breath then shoved Harry away roughly, continuing up the hill in silence, stopping to glare at the figure clothed in the darkness, then continued without saying another word. "Come on, kiddo. We better get you inside before the Dark Lord makes his entrance."  
  
Harry gulped, then nodded, continuing up the hill, stopping to look momentarily into strange and haunted blue eyes. "Don't worry, Harry," the man said softly, ruffling his hair. "All this will hopefully be over soon. Don't give into him, kiddo. Hogwarts needs you."  
  
So this man knew Harry was a spy? It wasn't Snape, he knew that for sure, but he couldn't figure out who the strange man was. Even his actions were familiar. . . but who? Harry didn't have much more time to think about it, as the shadowed figure gave him a soft shove in the direction of the tall, but old house.  
  
***  
  
"Ah," Voldemort addressed his kneeling Death Eaters with a cruel smile. "I am glad we could convene tonight." His eyes wandered to the only standing figure in the room, who stood leaning against the back wall like always. "Harry," he smiled softly, gesturing for the boy to come forward. "You are better, child?"  
  
"I'm no child," he said indignantly, sticking his nose in the air as he approached the front of the room, glaring down at the kneeling figure of his father. "But yes," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets, "I'm fine now."   
  
"I am glad to hear it, little one," Voldemort said. "I would have preferred to speak to you alone about this, my chosen, but you were unavoidably detained when I summoned you last."  
  
*Or I just decided not to come. . .* "What is it that you wish of me, My Lord?" He asked, bowing his head slightly.  
  
"I want you to take up your education here on a full time basis," he said, sitting down on a black throne, spreading his robes around him to give him a god-like appearance. Harry was careful to keep from shuddering, and built his mental blocks as to keep Voldemort from reading his memories and emotions.  
  
Harry looked up at him, letting a stunned expression cross his face. "My Lord, I am honored! To be taught by the very best there is to learn from, I dared not dream of it until now! Of course I would accept your offer."  
  
"Yes," he smiled evilly. "I knew you would love the opportunity to gain such knowledge from one as powerful as myself."  
  
Harry waited a moment while he gloated, then continued. "But. . . My Lord, who would be your spy among the students at Hogwarts? Severus is indeed loyal, but he cannot penetrate the world of the children."  
  
  
  
"I have another who is my spy," he said softly, looking at Harry with wary red eyes. "He is buried deep within the world of my enemies."  
  
Harry kneeled, bowing his head. "If you speak of Ron Weasley, My Lord, I beg you to allow me to stay and keep an eye on him. He is hardly trustworthy," he said with a sneer.   
  
Voldemort raised a thin eyebrow. "You have great skills indeed to pick him out of the crowd, my chosen. But why would you make such an accusation against one who has already proven himself loyal to his Master?"  
  
"Weasley is blatantly obvious, My Lord, and isn't known for his loyalty to others. Look what he did to Malfoy for example, abandoning him in his time of greatest need. You have asked for my guidance in the past, and if it my place to do so, I will aid you once again. I want to protect you, My Lord. I am not saying to distrust Weasley entirely, I am just asking that you allow me time to watch him from the shadows."  
  
"Hm. . ." The man sitting on the throne thought, weighing his plans with Harry's opinion. "If I remember correctly, it was Malfoy who put a rift between himself and Weasley last year, isn't that what you told me?"  
  
Harry bowed his head once more, looking like he was hiding his smirk, but making sure that Voldemort saw it. "Yes, My Lord, but Malfoy and I have come to a recent understanding." Gasps were heard throughout the room, but Voldemort silenced them with a low hiss.  
  
"Indeed? You are becoming closer to the Boy-Who-Lived?" He asked, leaning forward on his throne. "This is quite an advantage, Harry. Would you be able to sway him to our side?"  
  
Harry looked thoughtful for a moment. "If My Lord commands it, I will use everything I have learned to bring him to you willingly," he said carefully. "It is true that he is a great asset to you, My Lord, but he still may hold allegiance to side of light. Though the possibility of him joining with Dumbledore is small, the man helped him when he was a child. I will need time to sever the connection he has with that old fool and Hogwarts. But when it is severed, and his hate is mature, he *will* join us."  
  
"Good," he smiled. "Then I will allow you to take your leave and finish your plans to bring Malfoy to my side. I am very proud of you, my chosen. You exceed my wildest dreams for an heir!"  
  
Harry stood and gave him a low bow before exiting the room, ignoring the glare of loathing he received from his father, and as he reached the door, he heard the very faint wisper, "Good goin' kid, I'm proud of ya too." Harry stopped for a moment, trying to place the voice, but found it near impossible. . . It was like an old memory. . . one that he had tucked away years ago, and was now resurfacing. Continuing on, he left Voldemort to discuss what was happing with the Ministry and what a fool Fudge was.   
  
****  
  
"What happened?" Draco asked quietly, staring at him with glowing blue eyes.  
  
"I stalled him," Harry said quietly, taking a quick drag. "Like I'm supposed to do. Like I was born to do."  
  
"You accept fate too easily," Draco said, looking back up at the stars, sending the familiar prayer of peace up to the heavens.  
  
"You always came up here to think in the past," Harry said, taking a deep drag of the cigaret, not noticing Draco's startled expression. "I always wondered what you thought about, but maybe I have an idea now. . . Did you think about dying, Draco? Did you wish you could tell someone how bad your father hurt you inside? Did you wish that you didn't have to live a lie?" Harry's voice lowered to a choked whisper. "Or did you wish you could find someone to hold you after your father had shredded all your hope of ever being loved?"  
  
"Oh, Harry," Draco whispered, his heart aching for the boy sitting next to him, his heart aching from the past that wasn't so far away now. He had thought that by being here he wouldn't have to deal with an egotistical and narrow minded father, but now he saw his pain in Harry. And oh, how it still hurt.  
  
"To look at your child with such hate and contempt . . ." he murmured, flicking the fag down the arching roof, a tear sliding down his cheek. "I could never look at my child with such disregard."   
  
"That's just how he is," Draco said quietly. "He'll never love you. . . just like my father never loved me."  
  
Harry turned to look at him. "That's not true," he argued. "You're father did love you, just not in the way you needed him to," he smiled softly. "I know there is a special place in my father's heart for me, no matter how small. He may hate me for being the Chosen, for being above him in rank, and for being loved by an evil monster, but I know he cares. In his own sick and twisted way, he *does* care. Your father cared for you, Draco. He loved you in the way he thought best. You just needed him to love you in some other way."  
  
Draco felt tears freely falling down his cheeks, and wondered why they were there. He felt numb inside, the words Harry said causing the pain he never knew was there to disappear. His father had loved him, even if it was just a little bit. His father had been proud of him, even if he never showed it. The tears didn't stop, and Draco felt no desire to stop them. How did this boy sitting next to him understand him so much? Was it possible the two were really the same? He had thought . . .until yesterday that there was no possibility for him to relate to the strange boy that was so much like himself, yet so different.  
  
  
  
Then he remembered. . .  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
Draco sat silently in the middle of the shrieking shack, his arms encircling his knees, tears falling down his dirty cheeks as the dust around him collected on his already dirty clothes. His heart felt almost torn in two. He felt betrayed in the worst way imaginable. How could he have been so blind to the truth? He should have known that his father wasn't going to let him live if he didn't join the Dark Lord. He should have been ready for the rejection, the horrible accusations. He had thought that he was free from his father's disapproving looks, his stinging comments, but tonight proved different. Draco knew that he was still hopelessly looking for his father's love and approval. He also knew that he would never receive it, but that didn't make it hurt any less.  
  
"Draco?" The blonde boy looked up to see his best friend standing in the doorway of the empty room he had been crying in. His best friend who could never see Draco in the light that he saw him in. Harry was so brave. Harry was strong and loyal, everything he wanted to be. Harry was his world now, the only person who truly cared if he died. "Draco," Harry called again, entering the room cautiously. "Draco, are you alright?"  
  
"I'm fine, Potter," he whispered, wiping at his cheeks to further the dirty smears. "I just had a moment of weakness. "It won't happen again."  
  
"It's our weaknesses that define who we are, Draco," Harry said quietly as he crossed the room to stand by the shattered looking young man. "The choices we make also tell us more about ourselves. You made a choice, Draco; the harder of some of the ones you had. And in that way, I guess it's not the choice that defines anything, but how you feel about it." Harry murmured, sitting down next to the blonde.  
  
"I don't need your wise bull shit, right now, Potter," Draco snarled, shifting to turn his back on the ebony haired boy.  
  
"No," Harry agreed. "You don't need my bull shit, Drake," he said softly, scooting closer to the other young man. "You need someone to hold you and tell you that everything will be alright. . ." He wrapped his arms around Draco, and waited until the blonde turned in his grasp and buried his head in Harry's robes, shaking from tears that had been held for far too long a time. "It will be alright, Drake," Harry assured him. "I promise that one day you will have a happy ending. That Voldemort will become just a bad dream at night. The Death Eaters will be a memory and you'll find the happiness we all strive for in life. I promise, Draco. I promise."  
  
"He tried to kill me, Harry!" Draco sobbed, clutching onto the other man for life. "My father. . .he tried to kill me! He said that he had always loved me. . .He lied to me, Harry! He lied. . ." he finished brokenly.  
  
"No, Dragon," Harry murmured into soft blonde hair. "He didn't lie. You're father loves you. He loved you in the way he thought best. You just needed him to love you in another way." Harry tilted Draco's head up, looking into beautiful blue eyes. "Just like you need me to love you in another way . . ."  
  
"Harry. . ." Draco almost gasped, his eyes wide as he stared into the emerald pools of his friend's eyes. How had he known him so well?  
  
Harry pulled out a white handkerchief and wiped Draco's face clean of the dirt and tears, smiling as he watched the young man's thoughts drift through his eyes, emotions playing on his features. "I can't say that I haven't wanted this," Harry whispered, running his thumb over Draco's soft lips. "I've never wanted another person, Draco, but now. . . I desire you."  
  
Draco's heart thudded in his chest. Harry was saying that. . .Harry was saying that he wanted the same thing that Draco did. He wanted to be more than just friends with the blonde boy. But why? Draco wasn't aware that he spoke his last thought out loud.  
  
"You believe yourself incapable of being loved," Harry said sadly. "I'm going to show you different. How could I not want this, Draco? We've become so close. . .you've shared so much of your soul with me that it feels like it's my soul too. Draco, I feel that pain you feel. . ." Harry said softly, pushing a strand of dirty blonde hair away from Draco's face. "I feel the need inside you, just as I feel my own. I need you, Dragon."  
  
  
  
Draco felt like he was going to melt into a puddle right there in front of him. No one had ever said anything like that to him before. No one had ever cared like Harry had cared. He let his hands drift over Harry's face, making sure that this wasn't a dream, couldn't possibly be another one of his wishes expressed when he was deep asleep. "And I need you," Draco whispered hoarsely.  
  
  
  
Harry let himself drift closer, his eyes fluttering shut at the same time Draco's did, and he softly brushed his lips across Draco's. He moved slowly and purposely, bracing Draco against him so that he could deepen the kiss. Harry smiled ever so much as Draco gasped when he ran his tongue across his bottom lip, and took the opportunity to invade the blonde boy's mouth.   
  
Draco let out a small whimper as Harry ran his tongue across Draco's own, his hands shaking as he wound them around Harry's neck, twining his fingers into the soft ebony hair. It seemed as if the world didn't matter anymore. His father, Voldemort, the great fight between good and evil, didn't matter anymore. It was so small compared to this great thing being exchanged between himself and the only other person that mattered anymore. Harry.   
  
*****  
  
"Harry?" Draco whispered, but when he looked to see the young man, he saw empty space. Harry must have left when he had traveled down memory lane, something he was so cautious never to do. It *was* his Harry, how could he have thought otherwise? His heart sang and he found himself filled with such joy he had trouble standing. Harry had found him, after all this time, he had found Draco. It filled him with such hope. Perhaps now he could make a difference in the world. With Harry he felt he could have done anything. It was miraculous.   
  
But did the young man with emerald eyes know that Draco remembered? Did he know that Draco know knew him for the wondrous creature that Harry was? Was this the game Harry had spoken of? If it was, he couldn't stand to play it. He didn't want to dance around what he and Harry had in mockery. He would tell the Boy-Who-Lived, and would concentrate on spending every moment he could to help the boy.  
  
This was where the future began. This was where everything began.   
  
A/n: Alright. . . well? Good, bad? Anything? I need to know sorta where to go from here. Should I stall Draco telling Harry that he knows? Should Draco join Harry in the *noble* cause of spying on the Dark Lord? What of Ron and Hermie? Should Draco be resorted in to Slytherin? Who else should know about Harry and Draco (where they come from, they love eachother, etc. . . ) Luv you guys!!!!!!!!!! 


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